Driving Out Darkness

The shootings Sunday in a Sikh gurdwara in Oak Creek, Wisconsin, have affected me very much as they have affected others. I am sad, shocked, stricken. Coming so soon on the heels of the shootings in Aurora, Colorado, it's hard not to feel that hate and violence have gained the upper hand.

About the same time I heard about the shootings in Oak Creek, I found myself on the receiving end of some nasty vitriol. This happens from time to time when you're very fat, as I am. Many people believe it's possible—and obligatory—for all of us who are larger than average to better conform to the norm. In my experience, in this body I live in, I have not found it possible for longer than a year or so.

My many determined attempts earlier in my life to lose weight always ended in misery, with me gaining back all the weight I lost, and then another 25 percent besides, at which point I hated myself and my body more than ever. I have come to accept, though, that my body is more determined to save me from starvation than I could ever be to whittle it down to a socially acceptable size on a long-term basis.

After a long and tortuous journey, I have come to love and respect the body I live in, to honor what my body and I have been through together, to reject the ubiquitous pressure to be other than I am. That doesn't mean I've given up. Quite the contrary. It means that my relationship with my body is on much friendlier terms and I am free to care for it in the ways that work best for me. I also believe that my relationship with my body is my business alone. I am under no obligation to explain or apologize for my size. The judgments of others are not my problem unless I allow them to be.

But every now and then, judgment and hate come from an unexpected quarter, from someone I consider an ally, a fellow traveler. This happened Sunday on Facebook. Every time this sort of thing occurs, I have to shore myself up, give myself a good talking to, and actively resist colluding in the judgment of the hater.

Coming from someone I had thought a friend, the hate was very hard to take. I was hurt, and I took it personally. I had expressed my objection to a photo making the rounds that showed a very fat person sitting on a flimsy chair. That photo, taken from the back and not showing the person's head, is in itself designed to dehumanize and objectify the person. In the photo, "Chick-fil-A" had been photoshopped onto the back of the chair, and the text said "Welcome to Chick-fil-A, where being obese is 'genetic' but being gay is a 'lifestyle choice.'"

I felt I had to respond, because in such instances silence is the same as giving assent. I couldn't, in good conscience, do that. I registered my objection by posting a link to a Jezebel article by Lindy West, "I Know You're Mad at Chick-fil-A, but Stop Taking It Out on Fat People," that very articulately raises the same points I wanted to make. I never expected the venomous response I got. I pointed out that the hater was talking about me personally. And I tried to make sure that he had read the most salient part of the article:

We live in a culture where bullying is both socially acceptable and state-sanctioned. And it's that fucked-up aspect of our culture that makes Chick-Fil-A's anti-gay bullying a legitimate political stance rather than just the ramblings of some wacko fringe pariah. Our permissiveness around bullying is what's fueling this entire "debate." So to fight those bullies with bullying of our own isn't just counterintuitive—it contributes directly to the climate that keeps bigots like Chick-Fil-A above water.

Alas, not much of that sunk in, and after a couple more hateful exchanges, I gave up. I just couldn't subject myself to any more of it.

But I have a dear friend who also spoke up. I had reacted defensively, as though the entire conversation was really all about me. But my friend was more understanding. She engaged him further, and ultimately he admitted that his hatred was really directed at himself and his own body. He had lost some weight; he had hated himself when he was heavier. He felt justified in his hate.

What a revelation this was to me. First, given my personal vulnerability, I am so grateful that I didn't wade into these perilous waters alone. Second, my friend was able to practice kindness when I was not. Her persistence was a gift to me. Whereas before I had felt only horror, after I read what the hater said about hating himself when he was fat, I understood that the conversation had very little to do with me.


Thus my friend handed me the only really effective means of driving out the darkness of hate: forgiveness. In fact, when I understood what was really going on, I realized that forgiving this hater was no different from forgiving my former fat-loathing self. It took me a long, long time to be able to love myself the way I am. Perhaps it will take this hater as long or longer. I can only wish him well on his journey.

Perhaps hate always involves our feelings about ourselves—fears, insecurities, perceived inadequacies. In understanding this, I came to feel compassion for the hater, and I felt free to love him and forgive him and wish him well. I consider him a fellow traveler now more than I did before. He may not consider me the same, but it doesn't matter. I have my weapon—forgiveness—and I will wield it as ruthlessly as I'm able to drive out both the darkness within and the darkness without.

I'm not altogether sure how to wield it where the shootings in Oak Creek are concerned, but certainly the shooter's act was motivated by hate. And certainly at some point in processing what has happened, forgiveness will or can be a force for healing. We must counter hate as best we can in all its guises—the gross, horrific ones and the small, sad ones, both of which I experienced on Sunday.

Certainly our impulses toward solidarity and support that cross the barriers that usually divide us must be nurtured and encouraged as expressions of the imperative need for love to triumph over hate. The lessons we learn as we strive for healing must be shared and remembered and emblazoned on our hearts.


For my part, I will think twice when next I personally encounter hate. I will think about what it is in the hater's life that drives them and binds them. I will seek to forgive and to understand as best I can. I hope I will remember that they are not really all that different from me, and that the worst of their hatred is directed inward.

At the Dexter Avenue Baptist Church in Montgomery, Alabama, in 1957, Martin Luther King Jr. delivered a sermon on loving our enemies. He wrote it while in jail during the Montgomery bus boycott. It's well worth taking the time to read the whole thing—it's not that long—but here's the most powerful part:

To our most bitter opponents we say: "We shall match your capacity to inflict suffering by our capacity to endure suffering. We shall meet your physical force with soul force. Do to us what you will, and we shall continue to love you. ... Throw us in jail and we shall still love you. Bomb our homes and threaten our children, and we shall still love you. Send your hooded perpetrators of violence into our community at the midnight hour and beat us and leave us half dead, and we shall still love you. ... We will wear you down by our capacity to suffer. One day we shall win freedom but not only for ourselves. We shall so appeal to your heart and conscience that we shall win you in the process and our victory will be a double victory."

# # #Many thanks to the Overpass Light Brigade for the "Practice Peace" photo.

What Does Columbus Have to Do with Me?

Today in my Facebook newsfeed I’ve seen lots of “Rethink Columbus Day” posts. Rethinking Columbus Day is an excellent idea. Yes, let’s do. Celebrating Indigenous Peoples Day sounds great to me. But let’s give indigenous peoples—and our children—more than just a day off in the fall.

The “Ocean Blue” story so many of us were told about Columbus was not just a story about someone who lived in the fifteenth century. It was a story about ourselves. Here’s how the story goes: We, Americans of western European descent, are explorers, adventurers, and, yes, conquerors. We are bold and sophisticated, excelling in written language, technology, and learning. We are the good guys in the white hats. We are rugged individualists who rely on our own ingenuity and resourcefulness to cross the ocean, the continent, the world.

But just under the surface of the myth lies the bloody truth: western Europeans raped and pillaged the people Columbus “discovered”; they terrorized them with their brutality and forced them into slavery. The truth should make us squirm. This is a discomfort we need to sit with for a while.

We are not who we were told we are. We are not who we thought. No white horses, no white hats. We are descendants of arrogant, avaricious imperialists who thought the only possible value of indigenous peoples of any continent was their monetary value as slaves. I am not saying that we are culpable for our ancestors sins, but I am saying that we are still living with their effects. And until we realize that, and soberly weigh our ancestors’ beliefs and culture—and our own, which stem at least in part from theirs—we will not be able to adequately address the violence, greed, and arrogance from which we sprang.

No, not everything we inherited from our predecessors’ culture is bad. But neither is it nearly so squeaky clean nor so heroic as we once believed. If we believe the lies we tell about our ancestors, we will believe the lies we tell about ourselves. But if we honestly and soberly assess our forebears, we’re much more likely to be able to honestly and soberly assess ourselves. Imperialism is not just a sin of the past. It has not vanished; it has changed its form and focus. Neither are racism, arrogance, and greed confined to the past. There is no virtue in wallowing in guilt or angst, but a sober and truthful assessment of who we were and who we are is necessary if we are to make real progress in the things that really matter. And I believe that when all is said and done, what really matters is how we treat each other, and by “each other” I mean our fellow human beings.

If how you see your ancestors affects how you see yourself (and it does), then so too does how you treat others—all others. If you treat all those you encounter in your life—whether in person, online, in the media, or even just in your imagination—with respect and openness, if you assume that everyone is worthy of your time and attention, then you will also know that you too are worthy. We are not defined by the sins of our ancestors. But the sins of our ancestors will live on until we look at them squarely and see them for what they really are. Then, perhaps, we will be free to cultivate respect and humility and compassion—not only for others, but for ourselves and for our children.

Fear, Loathing, and Babies

Why on earth does anyone waist their time targeting the most powerless and disadvantaged among us--unauthorized immigrants and their children--while the most powerful and unscrupulous--greed-driven corporate hegemons--continue to run our civil rights, our government, and our economy into the ground not only with impunity but with hardly a blip on the collective radar? Isn't it just possible that many who focus on the supposed threat posed by the powerless and disadvantaged are being manipulated into misidentifying who should be held accountable for our current economic and political morass?

Might it be that those who are running away with the wealth and power of this country, those who control the language and focus of the mainstream media--who know that calling people "illegals" will stir up resentment and mistrust--bank on being able to take advantage of deep-seated prejudices to distract us from the very real damage that they themselves routinely and cavalierly cause? Allow me to remind you that until very recently the word illegal was used only as an adjective, not a noun, and it was never used to modify people, only actions. Calling people "illegals" dehumanizes them, allowing us to feel that our attitudes toward them are justified.

The arguments used against the current wave of immigrants are the same as the arguments used against all the previous waves of immigrants: "they don't learn the language," "they don't pay taxes," "they don't assimilate." It's true that adult immigrants to this country find English a very difficult language to learn (think about wrapping your mind around "though," "through," "tough," and "cough"), especially because they are preoccupied with procuring employment and providing for their families. But their children never fail to learn English and never fail to assimilate and are very often tremendous assets not only to the immigrant community they grew up with but also to our country, the country that is their own, their home country in every respect.

The claims that unauthorized immigrants don't pay taxes and that they take advantage of our oh-so-abundant (not!) social services is absurd. It's next to impossible to get a paycheck in this country without taxes being taken out. And those who get paid "under the table" often find that they are not paid as much as they were promised or are not paid at all, and because of their status they have no legal recourse. The effect is that we have a subclass of cheap laborers with no rights, no legal recourse when they're exploited, and no political voice or representation. And these are the people we find so threatening? This is what causes outrage when the middle class is disappearing at an alarming rate while our civil liberties are blithely eaten for lunch by greedy fear-mongering corporate hegemons?

And what about the so-called anchor babies? Just what threat do these babies pose exactly? Unauthorized immigrants who bear a child in this country are still subject to deportation. They gain no legal advantage by having a child except the advantage of U.S. citizenship for the child, while they run the risk of having their family torn apart should one or both parents be deported. In what way, exactly, does this pose a threat to anyone, except that it means a continued shift in the ratio of nonwhite to white babies being born in this country? If these babies truly pose a threat, then it's a threat only to those invested in maintaining a homogeneous white majority.

And what would we have these children do, the ones who grow up here and are far more at home here than they could possibly be in their parents' country of origin? We should deport them to a country of which they are not citizens that would be very nearly as foreign to them as it would be to us?

When, oh when, are we going to learn that cultural diversity is a great blessing and strength, that every wave of immigrants has enriched this country in countless ways? We need these newcomers who are being reviled and terrorized because they have the temerity to want to come here to work when work isn't available in their home country. We need them, because the poor--not the rich--form the basis of our economy. The poor spend every last cent of their income because they have no choice to do otherwise. Some may be fortunate enough to have a modest amount to send home to family, but most of what they earn is spent right here. The same cannot be said of the fabulously wealthy, who make far more money than they can possibly spend and do more to weaken our economy than strengthen it.

We need these immigrants not only for economic reasons but also because many aspects of their cultures are antidotes to the most problematic aspects of our own culture, such as extreme individualism, task-orientation, and rampant materialism. We need them because the mixing of cultures and ideas results in stronger values and communities.

When I first started working with my church's Latino congregation, I would arrive a half-hour early every Sunday to practice and prepare for the service. But I soon learned that although the tasks I had in mind weren't unimportant, it was more important to greet the people who arrived early. In other words, people are more important than tasks, which also meant that I was more important than tasks. It was my presence--and theirs--that really counted, not my performance or preparation. It didn't matter if I made mistakes. What mattered--and still matters--is that I love and cherish the people of my faith community. This may be a simple lesson, but it's a profound one, and only one small example of how I've been blessed by coming to know and love my Latino sisters and brothers.

The children of immigrants are quick to see the virtues and attractions of both their parents' culture and the majority culture that surrounds them, and they're very often brilliant at interweaving the best aspects of both to come up with a fabric that is stronger and more beautiful than either of the original threads. Yet these very children--the "anchor babies"--are the ones we find so abhorrent that we would consider altering the Constitution to prevent them from becoming citizens? Not only do these children not pose a threat, but they are the bright promise of tomorrow. What does denying them citizenship accomplish? And what does it say about us as a country? If such a law had been put into effect in the eighteenth century, the founders of this country would not have been citizens. I submit that altering the Constitution in such a way would signify that we have lost our way, that we have refused to learn the lessons of past generations, and that we are a nation guided not by wisdom and compassion but by fear and ignorance.

--Mary (my first blog post in well over a year!)

Hitting the Nail on the Head

"It is a tribute to the first amendment that this kind of vile, contemptible nonsense is so freely propagated."




"Why is the Health Care Industry spending $1.4 million per day on 1,000 lobbyists to stop health care reform?"




Finally, make sure you don't miss Donald Sutherland's excellent take:

It must finally be clear to us all that the stumbling block to successful health/disease care reform has been definitively reduced to two words. They're not "public option" or "single payer," they're "Max Baucus."

Hate Speech on HuffPo: "A Nation of Overweight Porkers"

Frank Schaeffer posted "Why Is the USA Screwed -- Maybe Forever?" on the Huffington Post today. It's one of those "where are we going and why are we in this handbasket" diatribes, a cheery little screed morosely listing all that is wrong with our culture and why we are utterly doomed forever.

There I am, innocently reading along, when I hit a list item that sends me reeling. So I wrote a diatribe of my own back to Mr. Schaeffer. It took me forever to edit it down to HuffPo's limit of 250 words. I'm not going to link back to the article because I'm angry and don't want anyone benefiting from blatantly hateful language. But here is the link to my comment. If you happen to be incensed as well, feel free to post a comment of protest yourself. Here's what I wrote:

I take serious exception to this: "Why are we a nation of overweight porkers, incapable of losing weight[,] who may well have shorter life spans than our parents (declines in smoking aside)?" Here, Mr. Schaeffer, your ignorance is showing, along with your bigotry.

In spite of the so-called obesity epidemic, life spans continue to increase. You assume that the thin are in some way morally virtuous and that the fat are not. You also assume that fat people eat more than thin people do, but there is no evidence for that. There is, however, a clear correlation between ill health and a sedentary lifestyle, especially when combined with poor nutrition. But that correlation applies to people of all sizes.

Please, before you indulge in any more fat hatred, educate yourself. Start with The Diet Myth by Paul Campos.

Fat people are not part of what's wrong with our culture, but the stigmatization of fat people is. If shame made people thin, no one would be fat. The problem is not "overweight porkers." The problem is our obsession with body size, our knee-jerk judgment of people who are larger than average, and our refusal to accept that good people come in all shapes and sizes.

Insulting fat people does not do anything to alleviate what's wrong with our culture. And don't you ever call me a porker again, Mr. Schaeffer. You owe me an apology.